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Sunday, October 14, 2012

Everything

and even though you saideverything is negotiable--with your microscope out on the tableand a lotus in a bowl,

everything cannot be just academic--so open up a window andgo, manGo.

You've got instruments for calculatingeverything you know,while I wrap my lonely skin aroundcello and bowin an empty room with curtains like sails.What am I supposed to do with the least of youin all the little details?In your sleep, you hum and whistlewhat philosophers opined,and spoke of so intelligently,then intelligently died.

First a little aside on your very relevant bible ref--I can't believe how in rewriting the bible to 'modern' sensibilities, they have dumbed it down and removed so much of the impact of the poetic language--it's like listening to a soap commercial compared to reading Eliot or something (excuse the atheist's digression)

Now, the poem-- the debate between soul, mind and heart, or perhaps intellect and instinct, never ends and is always a tossup kind of no man's land, yet this poem seems to draw some lines--it seems to say life lived purely through reason is not enough, or perhaps just that pure reason leads to acknowledging the inevitability of death, so why not get to it and cut out the extraneous part if that's all you care about. So in a way, it's a mocking. But I think there's another level to this that argues for inclusion and balance of emotional need, emotional life, with the dry rationalities (and for me, argues most successfully.) Or maybe I'm just over-reading.

You know I'm not a quoter-back but can't resist these lines:'...in an empty room with curtains like sails.What am I supposed to do with the least of youin all the little details?'

Hits home.

(Lawd, I am giving Flipside a run for her money here ;-) --sorry for the unbridled verbosity, all.)

I did not read a death wish here. Rather a slow descent into mediocrity, anathema for any questing soul or intellectual mind. Your refrain was like a rallying call to evacuate the premises. (I'm right behind ya!)

I have to ponder on this a bit.I never associate academic with negotiate. The two seem incongruous.I love the line~then intelligently died. How true.There are things in this life beyond equations that turn philosophy on it's head.I'm glad she knows this

I saw insight in "intelligently died." I think many a philosopher probably came to the conclusion that there is more meaning in death than life. There also could be an intelligent way to go about dying, as opposed to doing so in idiocy. That speaks to how one lives, if you ask me.

I love that photograph. And this:

"everything is negotiable--with your microscope out on the tableand a lotus in a bowl"

Nickels, windows, curtains. Are these people smoking pot? "Go, baby, go." Are they perhaps talking to the smoke and the lofty ideas? :)

Fireblossom--Now, if you came to my door on a Saturday afternoon, thumping some book, I'd let you in so we could chat. I wouldn't chase you off my front stoop like I did for a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses recently. (They keep the neighborhood off their parking lot--and it's an ideal place to rollerblade--and yet they want to traipse around on MY property? Not really fair...)

Coal has retired? No more House of Pain? Or perhaps no more need for a house of pain?Great job of this poem for Flipside Flotsam. I like this stanza. It illustrates ultimate conflict without using any fighting words."You've got instruments for calculating everything you know,while I wrap my lonely skin around cello and bow"—K

My new book !

Modesty spoken here.

kindred spirits

"I have been blessed with these two gorgeousWings and I refuse to load my heart with weights."

--Marina Tsvetaeva

“I'd rather sing one wild song and burst my heart with it, than live a thousand years watching my digestion and being afraid of the wet.” ― Jack London, The Turtles of Tasman

"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all." — Ted Hughes

Poetry made from...

...trinkets, mojo, and double mocha latte!

Welcome to the Word Garden

The Word Garden consists of original poems written by me, Shay a.k.a. Fireblossom. Please stop a while and enjoy them. But don't pick the blooms that you find here, they must not be planted elsewhere without permission of the author.